


the heat that drives the light (the fire it ignites)

by isamagicdragon, thegracious



Series: it's not the waking, it's the rising [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isamagicdragon/pseuds/isamagicdragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegracious/pseuds/thegracious
Summary: “You must know the pain of losing a favored child. By sacrificing your own!”Slowly, Father bows, until his forehead is touching the ground in respect. In obedience."If the Fire Lord commands it,” Father says, his voice ringing in her ears, “it will be done."Or: Azulon asks Ozai to kill his daughter instead of his son. Ozai is loyal and obedient. His children, faced with a murderous father, are not.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: it's not the waking, it's the rising [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729060
Comments: 457
Kudos: 2720





	1. Favored Child

“ _You must know the pain of losing a favored child. By sacrificing your own!”_

Azula has never, ever, been afraid. 

But that was before. 

Nobody dares to make a sound. Even Zuko shuts up, white as a sheet and ready to bolt. The silk of his shirt is cool in Azula’s fist; it's going to rumple, but if she lets go, he’ll give away their hiding place. 

The seconds tick by, but Father doesn't say a thing. He’s just – he’s just sitting there, staring straight at Grandfather, eyes flat and unreadable the way they always are when Zuko is in trouble. But Zuko’s not in trouble this time, is he? Zuko isn't Father’s favored child. 

_Azula_ is. 

Grandfather's flames snap higher, the hiss and crackle of it filling the room with the sound of his disappointment. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of Azula’s neck, and the silk in her fist is getting disgustingly moist, but Azula doesn't feel hot at all, she’s cold, cold all over, why is she even sweating if it's _so cold_ –

Slowly, Father bows, until his forehead is touching the ground in respect. In _obedience._

Azula’s heart leaps up to her throat. He wouldn't. Father wouldn't. Father loves her, he said so, Azula made him proud because she worked so hard to perfect the Crane forms, _he wouldn't._

“If the Fire Lord commands it,” Father says, his voice ringing in her ears, “it will be done.”

Azula stops breathing.

~

Someone is shaking her. Azula blinks, and suddenly, she’s not in the throne room watching her father promise to kill her; she's in Zuko’s bedroom, and Zuko’s hands are trembling where they're gripping her shoulders. 

“Azula,” he says again. “Azula!” 

“I – what?” she mumbles. Zuko’s face swims into focus. 

“Father's going to kill you,” he whispers, eyes wide and scared. “What are we going to do?”

“We?” Azula repeats, dumbfounded. 

“I guess – I guess we could tell Mother,” Zuko babbles, “and Uncle Iroh is supposed to be on his way home –”

No way. There's no way Zuko said ‘we’ – he couldn't possibly want to _help_ because helping Azula would mean disobeying the _Fire Lord_. 

The Fire Lord himself had commanded for Azula to be killed, and if anyone finds her here, of all places, that would make Zuzu a traitor to the Crown. 

“Why are we in your room?” Azula blurts out. 

Zuko stops his babbling, and stares at her incredulously. “You think I would bring you to your room when Father is going to kill you?! I’m not stupid, Lala!”

But – but he is, doesn't he see that if he just does nothing he'll be Crown Prince when all this is over? Isn't that what he wants? To be Father's favored, _only_ child? 

“But now we know that that doesn't really mean much, right?” Zuko says, trying to look sure of himself but failing. “You were always his favorite, but when Grandfather told him to kill you _he still said yes."_

Were. Past tense. Azula _was_ Father’s favorite child. 

“Lala? Lala, don't cry, we'll fix this, we'll find a way, I promise!”

Zuko doesn't know what he’s promising. He's promising _treason,_ and what can he do to stop Father anyway? He can't even do Crane Leaps Over the Boulder yet, and Father has mastered _all_ the Crane forms. And all the Phoenix forms. And all the Dragon forms too.

Father is a master firebender, and Zuzu is ten.

Azula won't cry. She _won't._

~

Zuko wouldn’t leave to fetch Mother until Azula agrees to hide in his sock drawer. 

“No one’s going to look for you here,” Zuko explains, as they stuff the socks into other drawers. “It doesn’t look like a person can fit. But you’re little, and if Ty Lee can make herself fit into a locker, you can too.” 

It’s Zuzu, so it’s not really the smartest plan ever, but it’s the only one they have. Azula _does_ fit. It’s not comfortable, but it’s better than being dead, so she doesn’t complain. 

“Hurry,” she says instead. “I don’t think I can stay here for very long.”

“Okay,” Zuko promises, before covering her with socks and pushing the drawer almost-closed. 

Thank Agni he wasn’t dumb enough to _actually_ close it all the way. 

Waiting for Zuzu is awful. She determinedly doesn’t think about how sock drawers were good places to trap a royal targeted for execution while you got guards to arrest her – it’s what she would have done, if the royal was Zuzu. 

But it’s _not_ Zuzu, it’s _her._ And she still doesn’t know why Grandfather wants her killed. 

The only royals ever executed are those who betrayed the Fire Lord. Her blood runs cold, all of a sudden, as realization hits. Did Grandfather know she called him a weak old man earlier this afternoon? Or maybe he heard what she said about Uncle Iroh and Lu Ten. Everyone knew that Uncle Iroh is Grandfather’s favorite – is it treason to make fun of the Fire Lord’s favorite son? 

If it is, it wasn’t in her tutor’s lessons. 

She should’ve listened to Mother. As it is, all she can do now is grip her knees and try not to throw up. 

As promised, it doesn’t take long for Zuko to come back. She nearly cries when he opens the drawer, and Mother is the only other person in the room. 

No guards. Zuzu didn’t betray her. 

“Zuko!” Mother exclaims. “Why is your sister in your sock drawer? Get her out this instant!” 

“I am, I am!” Zuko protests, shoving all the socks off Azula and pulling her out. “We just had to hide Lala because something might have happened to her if I left her alone.” 

“Duckling, this is why Grandfather has guards,” Mother says exasperatedly. She sighs, and then draws them both into a hug. “You’re safe here in the palace. There’s no need for you to be scared.” 

_But there is!_ Azula thinks, but doesn’t say. She doesn’t know how to say it to make Mother believe her. 

Zuko squirms out of Mother’s embrace. “But that’s the problem!” he cries. “We heard them, Father and Grandfather! The Fire Lord said that Father had to kill Azula to become Crown Prince, and Father said yes!” 

Mother lets go of Azula in shock. “Zuko! Your Grandfather would never say something so horrible!” 

“You weren’t there! He said that Father had to ‘suffer the pain of losing a favored child’. That’s Azula!” 

Azula stares at her feet, fighting back tears. She won’t cry. Mother will never take her seriously if she cries. 

But it doesn’t seem to matter – Mother is already shaking her head. “That can’t be right. Your Father loves Azula.” She turns to Azula solemnly. “He loves you. He’s not good at showing it, but he does. You’re his daughter, through and through. There is no way he’s going to – no. It’s unthinkable. You must have heard wrong.” 

“But it’s true!” Zuko insists. He’s wasting his breath. Azula knew there was no convincing Mother. “I was there, Lala was there! You should’ve seen the look in Father’s eyes, Mother, he meant it, he’s really going to kill –” 

“Zuko, listen to yourself! You’re accusing your father of murdering his own daughter! Ozai – no. I will hear no more of this, do you understand?” 

“But –” 

_“Do you understand?”_

Azula takes a deep breath, and decides to _try_. “It’s true!” Azula says, as earnestly as she can. “You know Father is ambitious, and he has never let anything get in his way before, but now _I’m_ in the way, and you know what he does with obstacles –” 

Mother glares at her, and Azula quails instantly at the look on her face. “If this is a game you’re playing to – to mock me, or humiliate me, young lady, you are to stop it now!”

Mother has never hit her before, but her fists are clenched at her sides, like it’s taking everything for her not to reach out and _strike_. 

Mother has never shouted at her before either. _Maybe today will be the first time for more things too,_ Azula thinks dully. 

“Both of you, listen to me carefully. You are never to repeat anything you just said to anyone, do you understand? What you are suggesting is treason, and people have been executed for less. Don’t think that your Grandfather will be lenient just because you are family – Fire Lord Azulon is just above everything else, and do not ever forget it. Am I clear?” 

Azula looks down at her shoes. “Yes, Mother.” 

Mother turns her glare at Zuko, and he shrinks under the intensity. “Yes, Mother.” 

“Good. Get ready for bed. Azula, let’s go.” Mother takes Azula’s hand, and, left with no choice, she follows. 

Zuko is hanging his head, dejected, when Azula turns to shut his door. 

~

Zuko tries all the secret passageways to Azula’s room, but they’re all blocked. 

Which – fair. Everyone in their family is paranoid, even Mother sometimes, and Azula has had a _really rough day._ But that left the window as Zuko’s only option; if Mother catches him sneaking into Azula’s room, she might post a guard at the corridor to make sure they’re not up to anything “rash”. 

_Why wasn't Mother on their side?_ She didn't believe them – and it still boggled Zuko’s mind, how quick she had been to dismiss him and Azula both even when they clearly heard what Father was planning. Zuko knows it's big accusation to make, but shouldn't their word be enough for her to check, at least? 

Zuko scowls, and gives up trying to jimmy the last door open. The window isn’t ideal, but at least now he’s sure that the tunnels are secure. He takes one last look through the halls, and when he’s satisfied that the coast is clear, clambers back through the trapdoor into his own room. 

No one else ever uses the secret passages, except for eclipses and foreign invasions anyway, and there hasn’t been any of those in like, a hundred years. They can take the tunnels back into Zuko’s room, and maybe, if the coast is still clear, use them to escape. 

He resolutely doesn’t think about what they’ll do if they _don’t_ escape. He – it's more important to get Azula out of her room, for now. She’s a sitting turtleduck for Father while she’s in there. 

Luckily, their rooms are right next to each other, so Zuko makes short work of climbing into the next window. On any other day, he’d be preening at how easy it is, pleased at having at least one thing he’s good at, but today his sister’s life hinges on him not getting caught. 

He drops into Azula’s room, and is immediately assaulted by a _hot hot_ fireball. 

“Azula! It’s just me!” Zuko yelps, thrusting his arms to the side to dissipate the flames. It’s easier than it should be, and a glance up immediately tells Zuko why: Azula is crouching on the other side of the bed, shaking, chest heaving and her face bone-white.

She lost her breath control. 

“Zuzu? Why didn’t you just knock like a normal person?” she demands shakily. Her form is perfect, but her eyes are red and her shoulders are still shaking from the sobs that Zuko can tell she’s suppressing. A bag, half-full with clothes, is sitting next to her feet. 

“I had to make sure no one saw me, and you blocked all of the secret passages,” Zuko retorts. “You're packing already – do you have a plan?”

Azula draws herself to her full height, trying to look imperious. “That's none of your business,” she says icily. “Get out of my room!”

Zuko just rolls his eyes, and hefts his own bag up to show her. “I promised you I would help. I'm packed and ready to go now. Where to?”

A tense silence blankets them; Azula is staring at him, eyes wild and suspicious, and Zuko stares back as earnestly as he can. He tries not to shake with the enormity of what they're doing, but he’s probably hiding his terror as well as Lala is – that is, not very well at all. 

Azula breaks their standoff. “You can't mean that,” she hisses, her face scrunching up in anger. “You're trying to trick me. If you stay, you'll be the sole heir to the Dragon Throne. You don't even have to _do_ anything to win! You just want to sabotage my escape so Father and Grandfather will be impressed!”

Zuko nearly reconsiders, but discards the idea just as quickly. Father has never approved of Zuko, and his temper is shorter with Zuko than it is with Azula. _Impressing Father_ this one time won't matter at all. If Father is willing to _kill_ Azula, what else will he be willing to do to Zuko? 

He can't say that to Azula, though. 

“You're right, I'll be the only heir,” he concedes. “But that means even more pressure to be perfect, and once I mess up, it won't be safe here for me anymore. And you _know_ I'm going to mess up. I can't stay here either.”

“You're not serious.” Azula shakes her head, and stomps back to her closet, grabbing more clothes and dumping them onto her bed. “Get out of here, Zuzu, or I’ll – I’ll hurt you if you get in my way.”

He tosses his bag onto Azula’s clothes and yanks it open. It’s packed with his clothes, food, and several pieces of jewelry. 

“Yes, I'm serious,” he says, eyes boring into Azula’s. “You're my baby sister; I'm honor-bound to protect you. And if we're running away –” he fumbles along his belt, where the sword Lu Ten gave him is strapped, and pulls out Uncle Iroh’s knife “– you're going to need a weapon.”

 _Never give up without a fight_. Azula stares at the knife, stares at Zuko, and swallows. “Alright.”

**~**

Zuko sneaks back down to steal an army survival pack – _the one with the tent, Zuzu_ – from the bunkers below, while Azula stays behind to finish packing. Stupid Zuzu; he left all the valuables in plain sight inside his pack, so now Azula has to unroll all her socks _again_ to hide the jewels. They're already stuffed with some of Azula’s jewelry. They'd have to sell it as soon as they found a shop that trades gold. 

It’s hard to concentrate, though, because every little sound sends a wash of terror down her spine. But Azula breathes in, breathes out, and does what she does best: focus on her work until all her tasks are finished. And to her, _finished_ means _perfect,_ and _perfect_ means _safe._

In a way, packing is calming too. If her hands are occupied with stuffing the hairpieces into socks, then they're too busy to shake. If her mind is too occupied with counting and budgeting the rations they have packed, she's too busy to be afraid. She’s putting away the first aid kit that Zuko managed to steal when the loose floorboard right outside her door squeaks.

The calm immediately morphs into terror, and Azula whirls around. Father is standing at the doorway, smiling sardonically. 

“Going somewhere?” he asks mildly.

He’s already dressed for bed, looking for all the world like he's a normal father on a normal night checking in on his daughter before bed. But Azula has never been tucked into bed by Father before – that's always been Mother's job.

Besides, the gleam in his eye is enough to let Azula know why Father is here. 

He steps into the room, eyes trained on Azula’s. The door closes with a soft _click_ ; Azula could scream, but if Father came here himself, there aren't going to be any silly servants in this wing of the palace to hear her anyway. Absolute silence hangs heavy between them, not a single sound from a guard on rotation or a servant scurrying past – Father’s not going to risk _witnesses_ for the murder of his daughter, after all. 

Father advances, every creaking footstep deafening in the silence. “You already know why I'm here, don't you?” he continues. “Smart girl. It really is a shame that _this_ is the Fire Lord’s condition – you would have been the perfect heir, Azula.”

_Would have been._

She had packed and planned to escape the Capital because she knew Father is going to kill her, but hearing the confirmation still feels like a blow. 

“So, are you going to be a good daughter, Azula?” Father pulls out a knife – a blue handle flashes in the dim light, for framing the Water Savages for her murder, Azula supposes – and steps even closer. “Or will you make things… messy?”

She blinks back tears, focuses on the anger and outrage welling up inside her, and settles into a perfect defensive stance. 

“I'm not giving up without a fight!” she shouts. 

Father sighs. “That's a pity. I was hoping to make this painless, but needs must.” 

For a single, crystalline moment, Azula is frozen, watching her father raise a weapon against his own daughter. 

Does none of it matter? None of her accomplishments – advanced bending, advanced lessons, none of the work and effort and heart and soul she poured into becoming the perfect princess for _this man_ – will none of it change his mind?

This man isn’t really her father, is he? Not in the ways that matter. 

Then reality comes rushing back, in the form of a knife aimed at her heart, and Azula’s training kicks in. She dodges neatly – perfectly – and smoothly slides into a maneuver she learned three weeks ago, for disarming attackers with knives and short swords. Father counters it, but still has the gall to look impressed and regretful. 

“You are truly remarkable, Azula,” he praises, and goes for Azula’s throat in the same breath. “Perfectly done. Hopefully your brother will catch up to your level once he is sufficiently –” Father dodges a blast of fire, and slams Azula into a chest of drawers “ – motivated.”

She flips back onto her feet, trying not to let the words distract her. Father is aiming to kill, not to teach, today; her survival hinges on the perfection of her defense. But the phrase _sufficiently motivated_ keeps repeating in her head, and she thinks hysterically that for once in his life, Zuzu is actually _right_. Grandfather may not have ordered his death, but there's no way he can be safe in the palace –no, the capital – once he is their father’s only heir. 

It only takes a split second – but she's tired, shaking, and emotionally wrung out. To her horror, Azula stumbles, and Father immediately exploits the advantage. He drives his elbow deep into Azula’s midsection, and she collapses on the floor, doubled over in pain and gasping for breath. 

Father towers over her, knife in hand. “You are my daughter, Azula, through and through,” he says. “You deserve to die at my hand, and you deserve to die fighting. And you deserve to die knowing why I –"

“Why you decided to kill me?” Azula spits out. “Isn’t it because you’re jealous of Uncle Iroh, and you’re too scared to kill him yourself? Instead of _taking_ the throne you want, you dance to Grandfather’s tune and kill your own heir?” 

Father stops in his tracks, his face contorting into a picture of rage that Azula has never seen before. 

“You will be _quiet,_ child,” he hisses. “Your death will be instrumental in reshaping the Fire Nation. Once I am the Fire Lord, I will –”

“Fire Lords are supposed to be the honorable leaders of the Fire Nation.”

Zuko is standing behind Father, a pack at his feet, and both dao drawn. 

“The murder of children is a stain on the honor of the Dragon Throne,” he continues, staring up at their Father defiantly. “The murder of –”

“Bite your tongue, Zuko,” Father snaps, “and be grateful that you are the only heir the Fire Lord has allowed your father to have. Otherwise, you would _already be dead._ ”

Zuzu’s eyes widen, and the dao in his hands shake. But amazingly, he doesn’t back down, doesn’t cower in fear and respect the way he usually does when Father intimidates him. “You lost your honor the moment you tried to kill Azula,” he says. “You don’t deserve to become the Fire Lord, and you don’t deserve to be called our Father, _Ozai_!” 

Azula watches in horror as Zuko launches himself at their father, swords swinging inexpertly. Father is a master and has decades of experience behind him, and Zuko has never been good at controlling his own flames – he’s obviously decided that he has a better chance with steel than with fire. But it doesn't matter; Father has Zuzu disarmed and groaning on the floor in two seconds flat. 

Father bends down and lifts Zuko by his shirt, eyes boring into Zuko’s face with hatred. “You have much to learn, Zuko, the first among them _respect_ for your betters. You _will_ learn it, and suffering will be your teacher!”

A flame bursts in his right hand, and before Azula could stop their father, Zuko is screaming, the fat beneath the skin of his face is crackling at the heat of Father's fist, and the stench of cooked flesh begins to permeate the air. 

“Zuko! No!” Azula screams, fighting to get back to her feet. Father tosses his limp body to the side; the left side of Zuko’s face is a melted mess, and he's _not moving not breathing not breathing –_

Time stops. 

In that moment, Azula knows with cold certainty that if she does nothing, Zuko will die. Her father – _Ozai_ – turns back to her, walking with the slow, sure pace of a predator assured of a kill. And it _is_ a sure kill – Ozai is a master firebender, and Azula is eight. A prodigy, but still eight.

She only has one chance. 

Azula stands, trails her arms through half-learned circles, and prays to Agni with all her might that it will work. Electricity crackles along her arms, more energy than she has ever summoned before, and when she thrusts her fists forward, pointing straight at the man she will never call Father again, the lightning strikes true. 


	2. The Red Spirit

Pohuai Stronghold, a fortification strategically situated on the inlet to Ba Sing Se, is the largest and most well-defended Fire Nation supply depot along the western coast of the Earth Kingdom. Though it is originally an Earth Kingdom garrison, the Fire Nation has had control of the area since Azulon's conquest of the nearby city Taku. Unfortunately, the location wasn't valuable for Azulon's invasion of Yu Dao and Taku was eventually abandoned; it was only years later, during Iroh's famous siege of Ba Sing Se, that the stronghold came back into use. 

A great statue of Fire Lord Ozai, with great flaming lamps in the fists and the mouth, was installed the year he ascended to the Dragon Throne. 

The nearby harbor serves as the headquarters for the Northern Fleet, and they take most of their resources — food, medicine, munitions — from Pohuai. Given the value of the goods stored here, it's made to be impenetrable; the three rings are separated by massive walls, each dotted with watch towers manned by the deadly Yuyan Archers. Several squadrons of Imperial Firebenders are garrisoned there at all times, to better protect the Fire Nation's supply chain in their invasion of the Earth Kingdom. 

This made Pohuai Stronghold the best prison available for the Avatar on this side of the world. 

The moment he learned of the Avatar's return, Commander Zhao had requested that a cell be prepared that was capable of holding a master airbender. No one had listened. But suddenly Commander Zhao was Admiral Zhao, and then the soldiers had no choice but to obey. 

~

The mask is itchy and hot, but she had to give it to Zuko — his idea to use spirit masks is paying off. Azula takes great care to stay hidden, but in a stronghold as densely guarded as Pohuai, sightings are inevitable. Fortunately, her mask is quite effective at sending Zhao’s men scurrying back to their barracks — one look at the grinning red face, and most of the guards who stumbled into her path were running. 

Pathetic, the lot of them. Too cowardly to stay in their post, and too ashamed to tell their commanders why. 

It’s simple work to sneak into the armoury and pick the locks to the storeroom, and only marginally more complicated to heave caches of blasting jelly to the target points she and Zuko had agreed on earlier. One for each ring, to draw guards from each level of Pohuai away from the side exit they’ll use to make their escape. 

“I’m not sure what Zhao will do to the Avatar,” Zuko had said grimly, when Azula pointed out that they can just use the same way out as in. “He might not be able to climb out himself, and I’m not sure I can do all that climbing with an old man strapped to my back. We’re going to need a distraction.” 

Which worked out for Azula. Anything that undermines the Fire Nation Army’s strength — and by extension, Ozai's strength — was worth doing in her book. Destroying Zhao’s entire fortification with no one but another teenager was also a big stroke to her ego, if Azula was going to be honest with herself. That imbecile needed to be put into his place. 

It is disgustingly easy work, though, even taking Zhao’s incompetence into consideration. She has _an entire barrel of blasting jelly strapped to her back,_ and yet more guards noticed her sneaking _in_ the storeroom than _out._ Soon enough, she is done setting up, and all she has to do is wait for her brother to get back from scouting. 

She didn’t have to wait long. Zuko drops next to her soundlessly, his identical blue mask still in place, and points to a window near the top of the central tower, Azula nods, and then Zuko holds up his hand, yellow sparks dancing along his finger tips. 

_Wait for my signal._

Azula rolls her eyes, and nods again.

Zuko shimmies down the rope they set up at their rendezvous point — it’s not far from a watch turret on the inner wall. There’s a grate at the bottom that leads to the sewers, and Zuko disappears into it, using the drainage to sneak into the tower. 

Once she’s sure that Zuko has gotten in safely, Azula begins preparing her own equipment. She coats some arrows in oil, double checks the rope, and makes sure she has spark rocks on hand for Zuko’s signal. 

A small shower of yellow sparks bursts out of the window Zuko indicated, and Azula smirks. 

Defeating an entire stronghold seems to be a worthy achievement for a prince and a princess to share. 

She lights her first arrow, and shoots it squarely into the cache of blasting jelly at the furthest corner of the courtyard. The explosion is contained, but the oil Zuko had spread around it catches fire immediately and ensures that even imperial firebenders will have a hard time putting it out.

There are cries of alarm in the courtyard below, and the men come swarming out of their barracks like ants escaping a burning anthill. 

Another arrow, and the aviary in the middle ring is on fire — no use letting Zhao call for backup from surrounding troops — and then she’s lighting an arrow for the biggest cache, set on the outermost wall, meant to require almost all the firebenders in the area to put it out.

Only, the spark rocks aren’t catching, the alarms have been sounded, and a group of guards are thundering down the wall’s narrow walkway. 

Azula curses. 

Five sets of footsteps — five guards, then. If they’re anything like the guards she ran into downstairs, this will be easy. The shirsiu darts are out of her holsters even before the guards round the corner — two of them drop, having _very unfortunately_ stepped into the path of Azula’s darts. What a shame. Azula doesn't bother to resist the urge to smirk.

The middle guard, wearing a captain’s stripes, is the first to recover, and gets into a fire bending stance that the rest scramble to copy. A group of firebenders, then. Azula cracks her neck, tosses her bow aside, and _lunges._ It's disgraceful how utterly terrible their form is; she had mastered this as a child and mastered all the counter-attacks just as quickly. Azula almost pitied them — they didn't stand a chance against _her._

A punch to the throat and the captain is down, and several jabs to specific chi meridians have another incapacitated. 

She whirls around to face the last, and is startled to see a boy, probably younger than Zuko, frozen and shaking in his boots. 

Azula tips her head to the side, as eerily and theatrically as she could, and the boy slumps over in a dead faint. 

Spirit masks. An excellent investment. She’ll have to remember to thank Zuko later. She picks up her bow again, and the spark rocks finally light that stupid arrowhead. Azula takes a deep breath, and doesn’t miss. 

She never does. 

The last blast shakes the ground a damn sight more than the first, puny ones, and the carts parked along the outer wall immediately combust. The alarm rings incessantly — alternating four fast, then four slow rings — _all firebenders on fire extinguishing duty._

There is something deeply satisfying in watching the guards below scurry about, desperate to put out the fires Azula started. They've abandoned firebending entirely; her fires are too strong and wild, and the guards along the other walls are frantically recruited to haul sand. Pohuai Stronghold, being the only resupply point along this coast, has a huge inventory of blasting jelly, and it would be disastrous for the fires to reach the main depot of explosives. 

It conveniently leaves the exit unguarded. 

By the time Zuko shows up, with the Avatar in tow, the courtyard is all but deserted, and they could make their escape. 

~

“ — and thank you again for saving me, sir, I didn’t know if I could make it out by myself and my friends really need my help —“

“Will you be quiet?” Zuko hisses, snatching the Avatar by the back of his shirt. 

Not a moment too soon — another troop of soldiers hurries past, shouting orders and carrying sacks of sand between them. He freezes against a wall, and only relaxes when the soldiers are out of sight. 

“...Oops,” the Avatar says sheepishly. 

Spirits. The Avatar is a _child_ . Zuko has no idea what Azula wants from the Avatar, but she’d better be willing to work around this. He takes a moment to just _breathe_ , then checks if the coast is clear. 

The yard is nearly empty, and he can just make out Azula’s shape climbing down the wall. Zuko sighs in relief. He beckons to the Avatar, and they start creeping out of the tower and towards the exit, staying in the shadows of several crates of weapons to avoid the remaining soldiers. Thankfully, the Avatar _does_ know how to stay quiet; his steps are light and he can move quickly, even keeps up with Zuko, and they’re going to make it to the exit as long as the men don’t turn around —

_Ribbit!_

“My frogs!” The Avatar stupidly, _stupidly_ , shouts. 

The men suddenly stop moving, and in the blink of an eye, a torrent of arrows are headed straight in their direction. 

Yuyan Archers. Zuko is never going to help Azula with a _small errand_ ever again. 

The kid looks up, eyes wide, and quickly calls up a gust of wind to knock the arrows aside. But the archers are already reloaded, and another volley is on them in a second. Zuko grabs a shield from the nearest crate, and sprints for the gate, the Avatar hot on his heels. Three arrows nail his shield dead center. The impact sends Zuko tumbling to the ground. 

“Hold on!” The kid says. He snatches a discarded spear from the ground — _breaks off the point?!_ — and starts spinning it. “I can get us over the wall!” 

Where is Azula?! “Wait!” Zuko yells, and he looks around frantically — the rope is gone, severed by a series of arrows. Azula is on the ground, favouring her left and fending off more soldiers. 

Zuko doesn’t even think; an arc of fire from a sweep kick sends half the archers to the ground. A staff-boosted air blast from the Avatar knocks the rest of them back. He’s on his feet in a blink, dao in both hands, and he sprints to the nearest spearman. Zuko's flames run down his swords, and his next swing misses — but the spearshaft catches fire, and the man yelps and drops his weapon in shock. Azula seamlessly takes the opening, and delivers a quick punch to the throat that disables the stunned guard. 

Together, they make quick work of the other two soldiers. The moment the men are on the ground, Azula whirls at Zuko, annoyance in every line of her body. “I didn’t need your help!” She snaps. “Why did you break your cover?!” 

“I —”

“Um, Mr. Blue Spirit Sir?” The Avatar interrupts. “What now?”

Something explodes in the distance. 

Azula huffs. “Let’s go,” she says curtly. 

~

No one follows them out of Pohuai Stronghold. They still keep running by unspoken agreement; they only stop when the tower is nothing but a hazy column of smoke in the distance. 

“Yuyan Archers,” Zuko growls, winded. “You said this was supposed to be a _small errand_.” 

“Tiny white lie, brother,” Azula says breezily. The plan was perfect, they’d succeeded, and managed to grind Zhao into the dirt to boot. Metaphorically, of course, although Azula wouldn't have minded an opportunity to do so physically as well. Zuko starts setting up a small camp, obviously annoyed, but even his sulking can’t bring her mood down now. “We were just in time too,” she adds, nodding towards the Avatar. 

Who is a child. She had heard Zhao crowing about capturing the Avatar and securing the glory of the Fire Nation in the harbour, but she only saw a small orange form in a net that the soldiers were dragging. She had assumed that the lump was small because the air bender had shrunk with age — just like Li and Lo had — but no. The air bender is small because the air bender is a _child._

The boy, upon catching his breath, turns and gives both of them a deep bow. “Thank you very much for coming to rescue me. I owe you both my life,” he says, appropriately grateful. “Since we’re safe now, I, uh, have to go. My friends are really sick, and I need to catch more frogs to help them get better.” 

Zuko snorts. “Frogs? Is that what the frogs in the stronghold were for?” 

The Avatar at least has the decency to look contrite for nearly getting them caught over _frogs_ , of all things. “Um. Well. The herbalist —"

"The crazy old lady in the ruins of Taku?!"

"— said that sucking on frozen frogs is supposed to cure Swamp Frog Fever. I kind of, uh, panicked, since I’d lost all of the frozen ones, and when I saw them —” he shrugs helplessly. “Sorry.” 

Agni, a _child._ Azula resists the urge to eviscerate the kid for being so _stupid_ with great difficulty — _this is the Avatar, he is our best chance to get rid of Ozai, do not offend him, make him like you_ — 

Azula smiles instead, and belatedly realises that she’s still wearing her mask. “Don’t worry, your friends don't need the frogs,” she says soothingly. “Swamp Frog Fever usually only lasts the night, and all your friends need to get better are fluids and rest. We'll help you take care of them, if you want.” 

Zuko looks up sharply at that. “We are?” He asks bluntly. 

Sometimes, Zuko is stupid enough to eviscerate too. “Yes, brother, we are,” she says sweetly. “There are _children_ who need medical attention.” 

“Really?” The Avatar says, eyes wide. "Thank you so much! But — but you’re Fire Nation, and you don’t even know me —”

“The first is an unfortunate coincidence of birth,” she interrupts, “and the second is easy enough to address. What’s your name?” 

“Oh! I —” he breaks out into a smile, and bows again. “I’m Aang. It’s nice to meet you!” 

Zuko looks despairingly at Azula, then sighs, removing his mask. “My name is —”

“Li!” Azula cuts him off hastily. “And my name is —“ _not Lo!_ — “La.” She takes off her own mask, and bows stiffly. “It’s good to meet you, Avatar.” 

“Great!” Aang beams. “Katara and Sokka are with Appa, up in a temple over there, we need to go now —“ 

“Hold it.” Zuko holds out two rice balls and two canteens to each of them, his empty pouch at his feet. “Dinner first. You’re swaying on your feet as it is. And make sure to drink your water — don’t eat it so fast! You’re going to choke!” 

Azula tries to hide a smirk. At least there’s a silver lining to the situation — Zuko has never been able to turn down children in need of help. And if the Avatar is _this young_ , they might have to teach him firebending. Zuko needs to at least tolerate Aang if she wants to succeed in persuading him to become the Avatar's firebending master. 

Later, when Aang is leading them back to where his friends are waiting, Zuko hangs back with Azula. 

“Li and La?” He hisses under his breath. “You fake-named us after those two old bats?!” 

Azula colours. Not her brightest idea, to be honest. “They’re perfectly serviceable names,” she says, trying to ignore his judgemental stare. 

“They’re going to find out eventually,” Zuko points out. “You better have a plan for _that._ ” 

She doesn’t. Not yet. She wasn’t counting on these two _friends_ the Avatar has with him. She wasn’t counting on him being a kid either. But she’s smart, and she and Zuko are capable — even if they have to improvise, they can make this work. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait – thegracious and i spent way too much time writing and editing and rewriting and reoutlining until we both decided that if we look at it for a second longer we're going to go crazy. Hopefully the next chapter will be better.
> 
> If you spot any mistakes or questions, let us know in the comments!


	3. Li and La

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka recovers from Swamp Frog Fever and wakes up to a well-kept and cheerful home — but a very grumpy homemaker.

The first thing that Sokka notices when he wakes up is the warmth. He’s never been this warm in his life, not even when he got sick and Gran-gran bundled him up in furs and stoked the fire in their tent as high as she dared. But it isn't furs wrapped around him now: it's fabric, soft and worn down to maximum coziness, and the pillows and futon beneath him are just as comfy and warm. It's ideal napping conditions: soft beds, warm fire, a good shelter here in the ruins of Taku—

Sokka sits bolt upright. Katara is gone, Aang is gone, and Tui and La, this is _not_ where they made camp. 

He's in someone's damn house, and _nothing_ here looks familiar. He struggles to his feet, heart hammering in his chest, and when the door opens, Sokka reflexively turns toward the sound in panic. His feet get caught in the blankets, one thing leads to another, and by the time his ears stop ringing, Sokka has a great upside-down view of the stranger in the doorway pinching the bridge of his nose and looking like he's ten seconds away from braining Sokka with a… bamboo shoot? 

"Who are you? Where have you taken me?" Sokka yells because even if he's been taken prisoner by a tangle of comfy blankets, some standards of defiance need to be met. 

"You're not well enough to be out of bed," the stranger snaps, and he strides across the room to shove Sokka back into the futon. He rummages through the basket he was holding and tosses Sokka a pear. It smacks him right in the face."Your fever broke before dawn, but you're not getting up until I'm sure you're better. Eat that and I'll let you out when you've had enough ginger tea." 

Sokka has been involved in several kidnappings since Katara dragged him and Aang out of the South Pole, and none of them involved objectively perfect fruit and threatening mugs of healthful teas — and the way this guy is shoving a teacup at him is _definitely_ threatening. But the ridiculousness of everything shocks him to compliance. This guy is seriously muscled, angry-looking, and he's got a giant that-must-have-hurt scar on half his face — and he's brewing tea and shoving fruit down Sokka's throat like a worried Gran-Gran. Sokka desperately wants a break, even for just a few seconds, to process the data: an (alleged) fever, a strange house, missing companions, aggressively helpful stranger, but his stomach has other plans. 

Apparently, this guy _is_ capable of scowling harder. The sound of Sokka's stomach growling fills the sudden, awkward silence.

"Have you got any meat?" Sokka asks weakly.

~ 

Half a dozen cups of seriously spicy ginger tea later, and Sokka has a handful of answers. He got Swamp Frog Fever ("You nearly died"), Grumpy and Grumbly's name is Li (although he is obviously lying), Katara also had the same sickness but recovered earlier than he did, and it was Aang who brought Sokka and Katara to Li's little hut just outside of Taku. 

"And I'm supposed to believe this while you have me trapped in this blanket prison, with no Katara or Aang to back up your claims?" 

"It's not a blanket prison," Li scoffs. "And your sister and the Avatar are outside, picking fruit and nuts that the Avatar might be able to take with him before you go to the North Pole. Apparently, he doesn't eat meat, and A— La thought it best that he gathered his own food here before you hit latitudes with harsher winters." 

"Oh, great, are you vegetarian too?" Sokka complains. "If there's anything I’ve learned in the South Pole, it's that recovering warriors eat meat; and a lot of it! How am I supposed to build up strength on a handful of berries and a bunch of leaves?" 

Li snorts, and the amusement almost softens the permanent scowl on the left half of his face. "There's bone broth outside, and if you're done with the pear and tea, I'll let you have some. Come out when you're done with this whole pot; I'll get something more substantial started." He gets up and leaves Sokka with a pot of tea and the last bits of the pears; Sokka knocks back the rest of the hot, _hot_ tea and takes the opportunity to change out of his fever-sweaty clothes. 

His pack isn't too hard to find. Li's house is positively tiny compared to the places Sokka's stayed in the past couple of weeks. It's built out of timber beams on a baked clay floor, and Sokka appreciates the warmth of the wood. Sure, this place looks a lot rougher than a house bent out of rock by a team of construction earthbenders, but it's much warmer and friendlier than stone. You can almost forget that it's still in the middle of the Earth Kingdom winter; the floors feel like they'd been soaking up the sunlight for hours, and there are lots of blankets and textiles scattered around to make everything feel warmer. 

There are only two rooms in the house. There's a very small bedroom with two futons in it, and there's the room Sokka woke up in: it's a kitchen and workroom in one. There's a roaring fire in the center of the room, a large work table on one end, and a set of shelves on the other. It's filled with all sorts of stuff: big glass pickling jars full of bright red chili pastes, baskets full of fresh and dried produce, sacks that look like they should be full of rice. There's one shelf dominated by books and scrolls that Sokka is itching to check out and another shelf that's loaded with all sorts of weapons. Bows, spears, a bunch of swords, a few quivers stuffed with arrows. They've even got one of those Fire Nation crossbows Sokka had spotted Zhao's men with. 

The books are pretty neat too: _The Theoretical Limits of Bending. Love Amongst the Dragons. A Herbalist's Guide to the Earth Kingdom. The Gift of Agni. The Way of the Dao. The Navy's Manual for the Maintenance and Repair of the Coal-Powered Battlecruiser. The Fire Nation Army Field Guide._ A whole lot of firebending scrolls.

Hold up. 

The textiles are red. There is an alarming amount of chili paste in the kitchen. The floors are unusually warm; there are Fire Nation weapons on display; there's a whole bunch of pristine and obviously expensive books in what should be a farmer's ramshackle hut. There is a _Fire Nation Army Field Guide_ on the bookshelf. With firebending scrolls.

Sokka doesn't pause to hesitate. He grabs his machete and sprints to the door. 

~

"Thanks again for taking care of us," Katara tells La, who just shrugs off the gratitude and leaves Katara feeling more awkward than before.

Aang had told her all about meeting La and her brother Li when Katara woke up, but since it was _Aang_ , the story was more enthusiastic than it was clear. Still, Katara has managed to piece the events together: when Aang had left to go find medicine, he had been lucky enough to run into Li and La, who are either masters of stealth or apprentices of healing. Katara isn't exactly sure which. Aang had been going too fast for her to follow at the crack of dawn.

After spending an entire morning picking fruits with La, the only thing that Katara _is_ sure of is that La is _mean_. 

"Honestly, when the Avatar told me that you're a waterbender, I thought you'd have taken care of it already," La says dismissively. 

"What does that have to do with anything?" Katara asks, trying to keep the annoyance from her tone. 

La stops and turns to raise an eyebrow at Katara. "Skilled waterbenders can cure diseases and injuries, didn't you know?"

Katara didn't know. "Of course I know that," she snaps, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "It's just — well, it's not like there were any waterbenders left in the South Pole to teach me how. If there were any I'd never have needed to go north for a master at all!" 

"Did no one write anything down?" La demands. If La were nice, her tone would be called impatient, but since she's not, Katara decides she's being snide.

"Write? Like it's _easy_ to buy paper with the Fire Nation ships breathing down our necks?" Katara retorts bitterly. "What scrolls we _had_ were taken in the raids, along with every other waterbender except me." 

Something in La's expression clears. "Ah. The Southern Raiders. They do have quite the reputation." She looks consideringly at Aang, who is cheerfully flitting through the branches of the peach trees with Momo, then turns back to Katara. "Doesn't the Avatar know that waterbending can heal? Surely his masters would have said something when they trained him."

"Aang…" Katara bites her lip, wondering how much to trust La. The memory of Jet is still fresh in her mind, and she knows now that just because people save you doesn't mean they're _good_ . Especially not if they're saving _Aang_ ; Katara is sure that La wants something from Aang, but she doesn't know what. And as long as Katara doesn't know what that is, trusting La is dangerous. 

Aang interrupts before Katara can figure out what to say.

"Look, Katara!" he says brightly, showing her the overflowing basket of berries he and Momo had picked. "Flamedrops! Kuzon and I used to eat _lots_ of these on my summer trips to the Fire Nation!"

Flamedrops. Katara looks at her basket full of sun peaches, then at the ash bananas they picked from Li's farm and puts all three together. 

"You're –"

She's cut off by yelling from the hut. Sokka. The three of them look at each other in alarm and take off sprinting.

~

"– Fire Nation!" Sokka accuses, swinging his machete wildly at Not-Li. "You're Fire Nation!" 

Li dodges, then sidesteps Sokka's next swipe (annoyingly) easily. 

"What — can you stop?" he sputters. "It's not a big deal—" he plants a foot inside Sokka's guard, and grabs at the machete, "and the Avatar trusted us enough to let us take care of you—"

He does something twisty and complicated to Sokka's ankles, and suddenly Sokka's machete is on the floor, Sokka himself tumbling after it. Li snatches it out of Sokka's reach and sighs exasperatedly. 

Disarmed in five seconds. Sokka hasn't been this humiliated since he'd been cocky enough to challenge Suki to a fight. He groans, ego and backside thoroughly bruised, but grabs the nearest blunt object anyway in a measly attempt at defense. 

Of course, that's when Aang, Katara, and a pretty girl who looks like Li burst onto the scene: Li, looking grumpy and menacing, and Sokka, trying to get to his feet weakly, holding only a half-peeled bamboo shoot in his defense. 

Several things happen in quick succession:

One, Katara pulls out her waterskin, screeching, "Let go of my brother!" in Li's direction;

Two, water whips fling themselves straight at Li, obviously aimed to disarm; 

Three, Li grunts, "For Agni's sake," and tosses the machete to the floor, so the water whips hit _him_ instead;

Four, the expression on the pretty girl's face morphs from polite boredom into _fury,_ and she turns on Katara with surprising speed;

And five, Katara drops onto the ground next to Sokka, grimacing in pain. 

"Stop, stop!" Aang cries frantically. "Don't hurt them, they're my friends!" 

"What very gracious _friends_ you have, Avatar Aang," the new girl says acidly, "that they thought to repay my brother's kindness of feeding them, sheltering them, and healing them by _attacking_ him _."_

"He was attacking my brother!" Katara cries, scrambling to stand back up. 

"Only because he attacked me first." Li retorts. "And I'm _fine_ , La," he continues, rolling his eyes. "It was just a misunderstanding." He turns to Sokka. "Yes, we're from the Fire Nation. That a problem?"

"Of course it's a problem — you're in the army!" Sokka scrambles to his feet and brandishes the bamboo shoot as threateningly as the situation allows. "Whatever you said to trick Aang won't work on me!"

"No no no, they're not in the army!" Aang babbles, bounding over to Katara. "How can they be _soldiers,_ they're just kids! And they broke me out of prison when Zhao captured me!"

" _Zhao captured you?!"_ Katara yelps. 

"Only a little! And Li and La got me out!" The whole story tumbles out of Aang, full of soldiers, spirits, Li and La saving Aang, and inexplicably, frozen frogs. 

Katara starts to look a bit ashamed for going for her waterskin too quickly, but Sokka remains unconvinced. "I saw the manuals on your shelf, don't deny it! _A Fire Nation Army Field Guide? The Navy's Manual for the Maintenance and Repair of the Coal-Powered Battlecruiser?_ "

Li stares at him for a split second, before he figures it out. "Ah! _Those._ The army gives them out to _any_ non-bender eligible to enlist," he says exasperatedly. "Obviously, I didn't."

"But I thought you're a firebender?" Aang asks, confused. 

"Firebenders aren't _recruited_ , they're _conscripted_ ," La says frostily. "It took a lot of effort to get my brother registered as a non-bender so he could avoid the draft."

Katara purses her lips and shares an uneasy glance with Sokka. "Aang, I'm still not sure we can trust them. Remember Jet? He saved us from the Fire Nation soldiers, too, but he—"

"Trust us or not, I don't care," Li snaps. "You've resupplied and your fever's gone; you can get the hell off my property." He turns on his heel and marches back into his house.

La turns to Sokka and Katara and _glares_. "Not everyone in the Fire Nation is as villainous as you make us seem," she says bitterly. "Outsiders just never hear of them because dissidents like Li and myself are thrown into the coal mines for life if we're caught. Rescuing _you_ , of all people — well." She fixes a stare at Aang, and the poor guy shrinks under the intensity of it. "I hope you know that rescuing and sheltering you means _my brother_ is party to treason. The punishment for _that_ is death."

The answering silence is painfully uncomfortable. 

"The risk we took at Pohuai was huge, but we took it anyway because the world needs the Avatar to end this war," La continues. "And for that, Aang needs to master all the elements, _including_ fire. There are few benders who have the mastery required to teach the Avatar, and of those masters, I only know two who aren't loyal to the Fire Lord. One of them has been missing for years. The other is Li. Whether or not you like us is irrelevant, because we'll be the only option you have." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to SpectrumCrovn for beta reading this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who contributed to this work! I'm cowriting this with thegracious (let me add you as cocreator already!), and several people on the ATLA workshop server beta read this for me. I love you all! 
> 
> Had this plot bunny for a while now, but I was hesitant to post another WIP. But then I realized if I dont post this now, this fic will never see the lignt of day, so I dusted it off from my drafts and decided to share it anyway. Hope you guys enjoy!


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